


An Acceptable Risk

by Kalkasar (Mordhena)



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Episode Related, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26711173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Kalkasar
Summary: Captain Archer is trying to find out Malcolm's favorite food, so of course he'd ask Trip.Missing Scene for Silent Enemy.
Relationships: Malcolm Reed/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. Favorites

"Where were you at dinner?" Jon asks, and I shrug.  
  
"I ate in my quarters," I say plainly. "Now that we got the amplifier workin’, I wanted to answer a few letters." I don't tell him that I was with Malcolm. No one knows about that. No one needs to.  
  
"You missed T'Pol's latest bout with Chopsticks."  
  
"Damn, dinner and a show." We laugh.  
  
It's not officially an inspection tour. He disguises it as friendly banter, but I show him around engineering anyhow. We both know the unspoken code.  
  
"Tell me something. Do you spend a lot of time with Malcolm?" I glance at him reading his expression; the question seems innocent enough. I throw it off with some stuff about swapping out power relays in the armory.  
  
We've agreed that we won't tell anyone. Except Natalie. I wrote to her after the first time Malcolm and I slept together. I hated ditching her via subspace relay. What other choice did I have? Her reply seemed philosophical enough, wished us well, telling Malcolm he’s a lucky man. Damn, why does that sting? I would've liked to say goodbye to her face to face, she deserves at least that but it's not gonna be that way.  
  
The Cap'n asks me if my parents would be able to tell him my favorite food.  
  
"Hell yeah! My mother'd give you her recipe for pan-fried catfish and not let you go until she was sure you wouldn't screw it up."  
  
"Malcolm's parents don't know what his favorite food is."  
  
That doesn't surprise me. I am probably closer to him than anyone on this ship and, come to think of it, _I_ don't know what his favorite food is. He doesn't volunteer information about himself, and I respect that.  
  
He's never talked to me about his parents. He has a picture of them in his quarters but that's about the limit of my knowledge of them. I don't think there is any deep dark secrets. Malcolm just doesn't see any necessity in talking about 'em.  
  
In some ways, that reserve is like a protective shell he has built. A cocoon that he can slip into, holding the world at arm's length. It protects him from us and sometimes I think it protects us from him.  
  
I've seen him flare sometimes, in moments when his guard is down. When the ship is under attack, or if he thinks she is not up to his standard for repelling or defending against attack - he can bite then, and he does. His staff respect and admire him but those moments are different. Those moments turn it sour. Once or twice I told him to ease off.  
  
He is just as capable of 'spitting sparks' - that's his term for it - at me as well. We've had some damn fine arguments in the privacy of his or my quarters. We never came to blows - at least not yet. He has wanted to hit me a couple of times; I saw it in his eyes, but he never has. I wonder sometimes just what it would take to push him past that boundary. I'll never attempt to find out.  
  
The Cap'n pumps me for information about Malcolm until he is called to the bridge. I wonder, briefly, if he's got us figured but it's not somethin’ I have a lot of time to focus on. I'm needed in engineering and my thoughts are on that for the time being.  
  
Maybe later I'll ask Malcolm, what his favorite food is - or his favorite color or somethin'. I dunno any of that and just now I'm beginning to think I'd like to.  
  
  



	2. An Acceptable Risk

"The stabilizer on cannon port two checks out ok, sir," Eddie says.  
  
I glance at him with narrowed eyes. "Port one or port two?"  
  
"Port one, sir - sorry."  
  
"Get it right!" I know I am snapping but this is important. We cannot afford to bungle this job. Too much is riding on it.  
  
 _Get it right, Malcolm. I will not tolerate negligence or incompetence!_  
  
My father is a man of exacting standards. He drives himself hard, and expects the same from others around him. I don't recall him ever physically striking anyone but his tongue inflicted more pain than a physical beating ever could. My mother, Madeline and I bore the brunt of it more times than I care to recall.  
  
The flash from my past lasts only a second but as these things can tend to do - it shakes me to my core. I realise my father's voice has spoken out of my own lips. It irritates me, and I walk away from Eddie.  
  
"Start on those beam emitters." I head towards a Jeffries tube, wanting to be alone.  
  
Trip joins me as I reach the hatch; tells me the targeting arrays will be on line in an hour. I turn to him and our eyes meet for an instant.  
  
"We should be aligning them by now! Not installing them!"  
  
 _You are wasting time, Malcolm. I expected better from you!  
  
Your father is in one of his moods, dear. Best you keep out of his way. He's been spitting sparks all evening._  
  
My mother - ever the facilitator - trying to act as a buffer between the admiral and myself. When I was younger, I appreciated it. Later I came to see it as weakness. I am too much my father's son.  
  
I push the past aside once more and reach for the relay I want to adjust. Sparks fly and my hand and arm catch the full force of the shock. I recoil, swearing, and shrug Trip's hand off as he hurries to my side. I cannot bear to be touched when I am irritated!  
  
"I'm fine!" I tell him. "I told them to depolarize those relays." _More incompetence_. It grates on me.  
  
"What are you tryin' to do?"  
  
"Bypass the EPS grid."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well we can draw power for the cannons directly from the impulse drive."  
  
This is the first he has heard of my idea. I didn't pass it with him first and he is about to prove my hunch about it right, I can read it in his eyes.  
  
I expected him to oppose the idea. What I didn't expect was that he would pull rank on me. We stand, face-to-face, eyes locked as I try to stare him down. He knows how important this is to me. I explained that - at least I thought I did when we met earlier.  
  
"I wanna get this job done as quickly as you do, Lieutenant…but not if it means taking risks that could get our people killed."  
  
He has drawn the line. He stares into my eyes, daring me to step across it. This is no longer about Malcolm and Trip, lovers -- friends. It has come down to Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed. Resentment seethes for a moment and I choke it down; take a half step back breaking the eye contact.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
I avoid him the rest of that day, declining his invitation to join him for dinner. The fact that he used his position to influence me has cut deeper than I wish to admit. He has never once drawn the difference in rank between us into any discussion before today. That he has done so now hurts and I am unwilling to let the grudge go.  
  
The next day is taken up with aligning and calibrating the weapons after Trip makes a peace offering in the form of helping me to test my idea.  
  
Of course it turns out to be an unmitigated disaster. The cannons obliterate the peak that the captain asked me to 'shave a few meters off the top of.'"  
  
I am glad Trip is on the bridge. I don't want to see the look in his eyes. He is right, I am wrong, and the ship is damaged due to my stupidity.  
  
But it is all over now, I stand outside his quarters debating myself over whether to press the call button or not. I know he is 'at home.' He left soon after we shared the cake with Hoshi and the captain in the armory; made some excuse about needing to catch up on some reports. I didn't miss the brief glance he sent me as he left.  
  
I followed a short time later. How could I not? Charles Tucker draws me as irresistibly as a magnet draws iron filings. I want to be with him, to let the tension and irritation drain away in the warm glow of his blue eyes. I want to feel his arms surround me; hear him whisper my name the way only Trip can.  
  
Yet, some small, stubborn part of me wants to resist. Can I really afford to let myself go like this? I know the cost of such relationships; this is not the first one I have considered. I know he will want me to let him in. The gentle probing will start: 'What do you think of this, how do you feel about that?'  
  
I have never been comfortable with sharing myself. It is something I have rarely done. I was never encouraged to do so at home and keeping to myself is a habit I have grown too accustomed to over the years.  
  
Some people say I am taciturn. I don't think I am. I merely never learned the gregarious habits of my shipmates. I find it tremendously tiring; conversation is not my strong point as I am sure Ensign Sato now realizes. I am much more at home, and at peace, amongst my computers, scanners, and targeting arrays.  
  
I sigh softly and stare at Trip's door for a long moment. I know that going in there means I am making an agreement with myself and with him that I will finally learn to open up. That for once, I will allow someone inside the shell.  
  
I raise my hand and press the button. I have counted the cost -- I think it is an acceptable risk.  
.  
  
~FINIS~

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work, please leave kudos or a comment to let the author know.


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